Windy House

Copper cut the last
bean can into shape. She pressed it down over the hole in the wall.
Driving screws into place and applying the last of the sealant to
avoid more dust coming in.

She looked across
the street. The windows at number thirty-four had blown in overnight.
The curtains swayed gently in the breeze. As the wind picked up and
died down, a random melody came from inside. Notes would play as each
gust blew through the empty house. The tune made Copper think of a
jazz musician playing the flute.

Ah, sadness. I had to look up what house music was, so this chapter’s humor was lost on me. I love the setup though! It’s painting a scene, building up a character, presumably establishing a setting, AND acting as a silly pun? Multipurpose writing as it should be.

You’ll know when I’m reading and where I’m at because I’ll be letting you know haha! I try to be the reader I always wish I could find traipsing my own works — someone chatty and curious to pick an artist’s brain.

I do need to be careful not to burn out though. I do so much writing every day just in comments like these and I need to balance that with my own creative work and simply letting my thoughts simmer.